


Mac sees the therapist

by goddammit_charlie



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anxiety, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammit_charlie/pseuds/goddammit_charlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac goes back to Dee's therapist from "The Gang Gets Analyzed" to try and score some bull hormones. She'd rather try to do some actual therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mac sees the therapist

"Thanks for coming to see me again, Mac. I didn't get a chance to speak to you for very long last time we met, but I think we touched on some important issues and it might be helpful for you if we explored them further."

"Like the size hormones, right?"

"Uh, not... um, why don't you tell me about your relationship with your friends?"

_There are tons of things I'm good at. I know the Bible better than anyone else I've met, I scored a point against a black belt in martial arts, and my roundhouse kicks are frankly astounding. But I think the thing I'm best at is being a friend. I think Charlie and Dennis know that I'm the most loyal, selfless friend either of them could have. Charlie definitely knows, and appreciates me for it. We're practically brothers, we've been looking out for each other since kindergarten, and I know that he's got my back just like I've always got his. Dennis is... different. Expecting him to return that loyalty the same way Charlie does would be like expecting snow to be warm, or Father Brennan to confess his sins to me. It just doesn't work that way round. I know he needs me just as much as Charlie does, though - probably even more._

"We're bros. We hang out."

"Okay. And how is your friendship with Dennis, specifically?"

_Dennis sucks at keeping himself safe. Even when he's not doing something actively self-destructive, he's careless with his well-being. The way I see it, this makes it my job to watch out for him - make sure he eats and sleeps, draw him away when he tries to start fights, keep him out of dangerous situations. I've been his unofficial bodyguard ever since high school, even though he'd rather kill me than admit it. I don't mind that he pretends he doesn't want or need my protection. I know the truth, so what does it matter to me what anyone else thinks?_

"Like I said, he's my bro. I look out for him."

"You look out for him, okay."

_I'm more subtle with it now than I used to be, not wanting to annoy him with my constant hovering presence. That's why I started the checking-in texts - so we could spend time apart without being completely out of contact. I'm always happier when I'm with him, without the tension of waiting for a text and imagining terrible things when it's a few minutes late, but I can't expect him to want me following him around all the time. Sometimes I remember meeting him in high school, amazed that this rich, clever, stunning boy actually wanted to hang out with someone like me. Even now, after more than 20 years, sometimes he'll flop down on the sofa next to me, or pat my shoulder with a grin, and I'm Ronnie the rat again marvelling at my luck. It's how I imagine Peter and John and the other disciples felt when Jesus looked them in the eye with a smile, although I try not to think of it in that way - partly because it might be blasphemy, and also because I always end up remembering that Jesus went back to heaven and left his disciples all alone, and the thought of that makes me feel like a cold hand has crept into my chest to squeeze my heart tight and it hurts to breathe. Those are the nights when all I can do is sit outside his bedroom, my ear against the door, and listen to his sleeping breath slow and even until the tightness melts away._

"Yeah, I've got his back."

"And he looks out for you, too? Or is it more of a one-sided thing?"

_Charlie once told me about a dog that waited at the train station for its owner for like ten years until it died. His eyes shone bright and wet as he told the story; he always was a sucker for animals. He told the Waitress he'd wait at a train station for her until he died, but I don't think she understood his meaning. Sometimes I think about that dumb dog waiting for someone who was never going to show, and get embarrassed about the way I trail around after Dennis. But I know that some people have different ways of showing things, like how my mom doesn't tell me she loves me the way Charlie's mom tells him, but I know she does all the same from carefully interpreting her grunts and scowls. In the same way, I know that even though Dennis has different ways of showing it, he appreciates me looking out for him and he wouldn't be without me. I know it when he shares things with me that he'd never tell any of the others, when he throws an arm easily across my shoulders without thinking, when he curls up beside me on our sofa to watch movies when he's been avoiding everyone else all week. That night at Guigino's, after I realised his speech to the soldier had actually been about me, I felt like sunlight was fizzing up inside me and making me warm and drunk with joy. Every sarcastic comment, every bruise, every sleepless night, every manipulative scheme and every drop of blood I ever spilled for him... all of it dissolved away and was forgotten, because my golden God had shone his appreciation down on me._

"It's not one-sided. We look out for each other."

"I see."


End file.
